Stories for Another Day
Bastani was a carpenter, skilful and honest. He had a donkey that he called My, that he loaded up with his tools whenever he had to travel to another part of the town to work. He loved his work, fixing roofs, repairing doors and furniture, even building new houses and barns. He was very good at his work, and he always had plenty to do.
One day an important merchant came to his workshop and said, “My daughter is getting married, and I have promised her a new house for a wedding present. I want you to make the staircase and the furniture for the house. If you do it quickly, I will pay you double.”
Bastani took the job happily, although it meant travelling all the way to the other side of the town every day, with the donkey laden with tools and pieces of wood. He finished in good time, and was paid his money. The merchant was so pleased that he told everyone what a good job Bastani had done, and before long, Bastani had more work that he could handle.
He said to himself, “If I take twice as much wood with me, I can do two jobs in one day.” So he loaded up his donkey with twice as much wood as well as all his tools, and set out very early. It was night time before he was finished work, and on the way home it started to rain. He took shelter in a small cave, pulling his tools in after him so they didn’t get wet and start to rust, but the donkey he left out in the rain.
When they finally reached home, he was so tired that he didn’t bother to unload My, or feed her or brush her coat. He fell into bed and went to sleep at once.
The next morning he woke late, and had to hurry to get to his next job in time. “It’s a good thing I didn’t unload the donkey last night,” he said to himself. “It saved me having to load her up again this morning.”
So it went on, day after day, until Bastani was so tired that he could hardly lift his hammer. He never had a moment to do any repairs that were needed on his own house, and when the roof of My’s stable began to leak, he just shrugged his shoulders. “I will get around to repairing it one day,” he said. “After all, she’s just a dumb animal.”
Then one night a terrible storm hit the town. In the hills to the north, the heavy rain made part of a hill collapse in a landslide. Some of the houses were destroyed, and others were damaged.
“I must see what I can do to help,” Bastani said. He loaded all the tools he had onto his donkey and as much wood as she could possibly carry. The rain was still pouring down, and the roads were deep in mud. Bastani could hardly walk, and My could barely stagger along, with mud up to her knees. Further up into the hills the road became even steeper and My stopped, unable to go on.
Bastani said, “We can’t stay here, sinking deeper into the mud, when so many people up in the hills need my help.” He took a heavy stick and beat the donkey and shouted at her until she started to move again.
Finally they made it to the site of the landslide. Bastani set to work, repairing and building without a break. My was put to work carrying wood back and forth, and even carrying homeless families and their belongings down the muddy hillside. At the end of the day, when Bastani was too exhausted to work any more, he nailed a few planks together to make himself a rough shelter, but the donkey stood outside in the rain and the mud all night.
The next day, Bastani worked all day long, fixing and building and repairing. Finally, at the end of the day, he set off down the hill again. The people shouted after him, “Thanks, Bastani! Thank you for all you’ve done!”
Bastani was so tired that he couldn’t stay on his feet. He climbed onto the donkey’s back and dug his heels into her sides. The donkey stopped. Bastani urged her forward. The donkey gave a shake, and Bastani fell off, onto the road. Bastani had never been more surprised in his life, but more was to come. The donkey spoke.
She said, “Bastani, you’ve gone too far. I have put up with being starved, frozen, beaten, and neglected. I have walked further and carried loads far beyond my strength. And you ask more and more. It’s too much, Bastani.”
Bastani got slowly to his feet. Had My just spoken? Had he dreamed it? He thought of the loads he had expected My to carry, the times he had eaten when My had gone hungry, the times he had found himself shelter and given no thought at all to My, standing in the cold and the rain. A sense of shame filled him.
Can you apologise to a donkey? he asked himself. He made up his mind. “I will change,” he said out loud. “I will take better care of you.”
He was as good as his word. When they got home, he rubbed My down and gave her a good dinner of bran and oats. Never again did he leave her without food or shelter, and whenever he had to ask her to do a little extra, such as carrying a heavy load of wood, he gave her an extra treat, a carrot or an apple, and made sure she had plenty of rest the next day. And the donkey worked as hard as any donkey ever has, without ever a word of complaint.
His neighbours, seeing him brushing My’s coat every day and sweeping out the stable, said, “You certainly treat your donkey very well. After all, she’s just a dumb animal.”
But Bastani wasn’t so sure.
A Wombat Named Benson 